


One of A Kind by Candy Apple

by Candy_A



Series: These Two Hearts by Candy Apple [6]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-13
Updated: 1999-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A





	One of A Kind by Candy Apple

Author's disclaimer: No infringement intended on the rights of anyone owning "The Sentinel" characters, stories or title. Original characters and storyline belongs to the author.

Author's notes: This is the auction story won by Bast and Shar--Congratulations, guys! This one's for you. Their "series of choice" was the "These Two Hearts" series, so here we go. ;-)

Warnings: m/m, violence, some mention of domestic violence, h/c

One Of A Kind by Candy Apple

Blair took two beers out of the refrigerator and headed down to the basement, the sound of the drums growing louder with each step. He paused and smiled, watching Jim flailing away on the drum set, oblivious for that moment to even Blair's presence.

//What a joy to watch a sentinel experience music so completely,// Blair thought, watching the rhythm seem to course through Jim's body, his eyes closed, expression one of complete absorption in what he was doing.

Blair was still getting used to the mustache, which Jim wasn't committed to keeping one way or the other at the moment. He'd rebelled against shaving one morning, and Blair had encouraged it. Jim had been allowed to rebel far too seldom in his life, and he'd spent too much of it crammed into a mold someone else chose for him.

The beat stopped, jerking Blair out of his reverie.

"Sorry, Chief," Jim said, smiling a little self-consciously. "I didn't hear you." Jim wrinkled his brow. "Now that's a new one."

"You were absorbed in the music. You're getting really good, man." Blair walked over to where Jim sat on the stool behind the drums and handed him the cold beer.

"Get that ominous-looking stack of journals read?" Jim asked, arm circling Blair's waist, hugging him as he stood next to Jim's stool.

"All the worthwhile articles, yeah. Man, so much piles up during finals, and then I just went into brain meltdown for a couple months teaching that one class. I'm way behind on the reading. Plus, I need to get rolling on an article."

"Time to publish again and make all the old geezers hate you?"

"I haven't published much in the last few years. My days of being a whiz kid were pre-Vince," Blair said, sighing a little. "I lost a lot of momentum there." Blair's fingers lightly toyed with Jim's hair, stroking a little as he stood pressed to his lover's side.

"You'll get it back, sweetheart. You've got most of it back now." Jim pulled Blair off balance until he landed in Jim's lap with a startled laugh and a little spilled beer.

"You gonna keep it a while?" Blair asked about the mustache, running a finger over it, smiling softly.

"You like it?"

"You know what I like?"

"A few things, yeah, but right now I was wondering about the cookie duster."

"I like you being you. And if you like it, I like it. Things like facial hair, the length of hair, clothes people pick out--those things are reflections of who they are. I want you to be who you are--no chains."

"So if I want to shave my head and wear a big gold hoop earring, you won't mind?" Jim asked, kissing Blair's chin, since it was handiest in their present position.

"You shave off this hair, I will kill you." Blair slid his hand back in it again. "I just got you to grow it out, man. And it feels so...soft. It's like silk." Blair started kissing the area around Jim's hairline, still running his fingers through the soft brown strands.

"You ever do it with a drummer before?" Jim asked, running his hands up and down Blair's back.

"You'll be the first," Blair responded, laughing.

"Better be the last."

"And the only," Blair added, pulling back and smiling at Jim. "You know, that guy really tickles sometimes," he said, stroking the mustache again.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Blair was blushing a little now, and Jim kissed a warm cheek.

"So last night, when I was giving you a little tongue action, that's why you were giggling?"

"I wasn't giggling."

"Chief."

"Okay, so it tickled. But it was really hot in a weird sort of way."

"Okay. The caterpillar stays until he wears out his welcome."

"So show me how to play these things." Blair turned around on Jim's lap, facing the drums, his back against Jim's chest. It was impossibly awkward, but soon he felt the two large arms come up around him and hand him the drum sticks. Then firm but gentle hands took a hold of his wrists.

"Let me move your arms, sweetheart. Just relax and let me do the moving, okay?"

"Sure, man. You're the expert." Blair watched as Jim guided his hands and arms in just the right motions to play a very simple back beat on the drums, getting a real kick out of the whole process. When Jim let go, Blair faltered a little, but managed to pick out most of the right moves on his own.

"You're a natural, Chief."

"Nah. You're the drummer in the family, lover. I'll stick with the guitar."

"Think we should call it a night?" Jim pulled Blair's hair out of the way and kissed his neck.

"Yeah, my eyes are pretty droopy after all that reading."

"Let's turn in, huh?"

"Okay." Blair got up and reached a hand back to take a hold of Jim's hand. Together, they walked upstairs and stopped off at the kitchen to dump the old beer bottles, then made their way to the second floor.

Most nights, if they were going to bed at the same time, they shared a shower first, sometimes making love there, sometimes just sharing the routine intimacy of bathing together. Tonight was one of those nights, when Blair was sleepy from reading and Jim had given himself a pretty good workout both at the gym earlier and with the drums all evening.

As Jim's hand slid down Blair's side, soaping him up, he let his fingertips feel the fine line of the incision scar, where the emergency surgery had removed Blair's ruptured spleen. He wouldn't let his mind travel just then to how many tiny scars he could feel in the most intimate part of Blair's body when getting him prepared to make love. Sometimes the heartless, wanton damage Watson had inflicted on Blair was like barbed wire wrapped around Jim's heart. Now it squeezed, making him ache for the pain Blair had suffered, and for how close he'd come to losing his soulmate before they'd ever had the chance to love each other.

"Jim?" Blair turned around, a little smile on his face. Jim jerked back to reality, looking down into those big blue eyes, regarding him so worriedly now.

"I'm not zoning, cuddlebug." Putting a gentle hand on the back of Blair's head, he kissed the wet forehead. "Just thinking about how precious you are to me," Jim said, his voice a little husky.

"Is everything okay? You just look so...sad," Blair said, still frowning.

"Everything's perfect, baby. Let's get out of here and go to bed, huh?"

"Sure. Anytime," Blair responded, turning off the water and getting out first.

Jim grabbed a big fluffy blue towel and wrapped it around Blair, pulling him close. Blair let himself be dried, and if he was a bit confused why Jim chose to dry him instead of them drying themselves off, which they usually did if they were just sharing a no-funny-business shower, he didn't comment on it. Until Jim paused, gently patting dry the area around the old scar.

"Jim--it doesn't still hurt. You don't have to be so careful," Blair said, looking up and catching Jim's eyes. Then he smiled. "I love that you always get so careful when you touch me there, but I'm okay," Blair added softly. "What's this all about, man?"

"Sometimes...I think about how close we came...and it just... shakes me up I guess."

"Yeah, me too." Blair slid his arms around Jim, who was still wet from the shower.

"You just got totally wet again, Chief," Jim said, laughing and hugging Blair.

"I'm drying you off with my body," Blair looked up and flexed his eyebrows. "As a matter of fact, I think we should heat-dry you in the bedroom."

"Heat dry me, huh?" Jim asked, chuckling and kissing the end of Blair's nose.

"Yeah--body heat."

Tossing the towels aside and heading for the bedroom, they fell together on the bed, kissing and caressing, fatigue forgotten as their cocks took a serious interest in the friction between them. The left over water from the shower mixing with the new sweat made their bodies slick, engorging shafts sliding together in a perfect rhythm.

Wrapped around each other, Jim on top of Blair, the larger man slid his hands into the long curls, his thumbs caressing Blair's cheeks as he looked into the eyes that always held him captive with just a glance. Their bodies still pumping, Jim never gave up that gaze, and Blair, as always, understood, keeping his eyes riveted to Jim's.

No words were exchanged to shatter that perfect unspoken communication. Blair's legs came up to wrap around Jim's hips, his hands sliding into Jim's hair, a little smile curving the full lips as they parted, letting out the first of many little grunts of pleasure.

Finally, as their pleasure peaked, and the warm, slick wetness spread at the point where their bodies were so frantically rubbing together, Jim swooped in and captured Blair's lips in a demanding kiss, punctuated by strangled groans from both as they rode the tide of the shared climax, then held each other through the final tremors. They returned to each other's mouths, kissing and nibbling in the afterglow.

"Guess we kinda negated that shower, didn't we?" Blair said sleepily, stroking Jim's leg with his foot, holding on as Jim shifted them onto their sides.

"We'll get it in the morning." Jim leaned back and grabbed a couple of baby wipes out of the night stand. "Just so you don't give me an involuntary body hair transplant in the morning," Jim quipped, cleaning the sticky area as well as he could, then tossing the used wipes somewhere behind him, more interested in getting his arms back around his partner than tidying up.

"What's wrong, lover?" Blair asked, returning the pressure of Jim's embrace.

"Nothing, baby. Nothing at all. Not as long as I've got you."

"You were thinking about before...about when I was in the hospital--"

"Sometimes, I just remember how close we came." Jim kissed Blair gently, then started scattering random kisses all over his face, until he got a full-bodied Sandburg laugh, accompanied by one of those beloved gummy smiles.

"Tickles," Blair responded, pulling back a little.

"The caterpillar, huh?" Jim asked, leaning his forehead against Blair's sighing, smiling a little.

"Yeah--but it's fun. It's a good tickle." Blair was still smiling broadly, and Jim just let his head droop on the pillow and stared at that beloved face for a long moment, finally tracing the smiling lips with a single finger.

"You're such a gift, Chief. How was I ever dumb enough to refuse you?"

"No more." Blair put his fingertips lightly over Jim's mouth, his smile fading a bit. "We had to make the journey the way we did to get to where we are now." Blair's smile widened again as Jim started insistently kissing the fingertips against his mouth.

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" Jim asked, hugging Blair tightly.

"I think you may have eluded to it, yeah," Blair responded, his voice a little strained from being squeezed in the human vise. If Jim was ever guilty of hurting him, it was only from hugging too hard. And that kind of hurt felt so good.

"I'm squishing again?" Jim drew back a little.

"Unless you hear a scream or bones cracking, you're okay, man," Blair responded, snuggling closer again, waiting until the big arms tightened around him, though not as intensely this time. Jim's hand rubbed up and down Blair's back. "I promise I won't try to escape." That brought a rumble of laughter out of Jim.

"That would be tough with me wrapped around one of your legs, Chief."

Blair stacked up his lecture notes, looking up occasionally to

return a smile or friendly word from one of the departing students. It had been a long morning, and he had an even longer afternoon to look forward to at the PD. With the new domestic violence unit just getting off the ground, he was putting in days of epic length trying to meet all his commitments.

"Dr. Sandburg?"

Blair looked up to meet the eyes of one of his better students, a junior named Connor. He reminded Blair a little of himself at that age, studious, still a little awkward, a good mop of wavy brown hair and glasses. Connor was a little taller than Blair, with an average build.

"Hi, Connor. What can I do for you?"

"I saw you on TV the other night," he said, a little hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah." Blair laughed a little, thinking of his brief appearance on a local TV news special report on domestic violence. The station had wanted to highlight the Cascade PD's latest attempt to address the issue through the formation of the new program Blair was directing. "Andy Warhol said we all get our fifteen minutes--so I guess I have fourteen-and-a-half left to go yet," he quipped.

"You're going to be working with abused people?"

"That's a big part of it," Blair said, looking at Connor with concerned eyes. The younger man's demeanor was unusual, strained.

"I...know this guy. He's with somebody, and it's...there are some problems. I think maybe...he's being abused."

"Have you seen any marks--physical indications?"

"Um, yeah--well, I mean, not really. They don't show."

"Then when did you see them?" Blair frowned, feeling the sneaking suspicion that Connor was using the oldest trick in the book--seeking help for a "friend".

"He...uh, well, he looked like he was in pain."

"I see. Has he said anything about his...partner?"

"He wouldn't dare," Connor retorted immediately. "He'd kill m-him."

"Listen, I don't have office hours this afternoon. Let's go grab some coffee and you can tell me about your friend's problem, okay?"

"Could we...talk at your office?"

"Sure, if you'd rather." Blair scooped up his materials and the two men headed down the hall toward the area that housed the faculty offices. Blair led the way inside the small room, deposited his things on the cluttered desk and motioned to Connor to sit down. "What first led you to believe your friend was being abused?" Blair asked, pulling his desk chair around to sit on the same side with Connor, across from him.

"He, uh, can't go where he wants, and Will gets really jealous--I mean, to hear him tell it, the whole fucking world is gay and is just waiting to screw m--my friend. So he can't have any other friends--"

"Isolation," Blair smiled a little sadly, nodding. "I've been down that road. Go on."

"He can't go anywhere, do anything--without permission. It's worse than living at home. At least my...my friend's dad didn't beat him up for going out or staying out later that he was supposed to."

"Connor, if you feel more comfortable talking about this third person, it's okay. But I want you to know that I've been down this road before, and I know what you're going through, and there's nothing to be ashamed of. This is the hardest part--acknowledging the problem and confiding in someone--the first step in getting help."

"If he knows I talked to you, he'll kill me."

"I'm your professor. There are lots of reasons you might have to talk to me, okay? The important thing is for you to relax right now. We're safe talking here, and we have plenty of excuses to get together when you need to talk--I bet they'd even pass Will's inspection." Blair smiled as Connor actually chuckled a little. "Do you love him?"

"I thought I did. I thought he loved me--I think in a warped sort of way, he does. And that's why it's so fucking hard to walk out--well, that and the fact that I've gotten kind of accustomed to my face the way it is right now." The attempt at dark humor seemed like a good sign to Blair, and he smiled at it.

"You know that whatever you do, however mad you might make him, or however you might provoke him--you're clear that he's wrong in what he's doing to you, right?"

"I am now, sitting here. But it's like, when it happens? Sometimes I feel like I made it happen, like I should've known better or I shouldn't have said something that pissed him off or I should have asked his permission before I went out--" he shrugged, then stood up and started pacing.

"Those things might trigger the incident, but they don't excuse it. No matter how badly you piss him off, he has no right to hit you."

"He's psycho, man. I wasn't just using a catch phrase when I said he'd kill me. I mean I think he'd literally murder me if I left him."

"The first thing we need to do is get you somewhere safe."

"No. Not yet. I have to go home. I...I'll talk to you after class Thursday, if you can."

"Sure. Look, I'm going to give you my cell phone number, and I want you to call me if anything comes up, or if you get in a bad situation and need help. My partner's a cop--we can help."

"Okay," Connor agreed, tucking the card in his pocket.

"Uh-uh. Take that out, write the cell phone number in your lecture notes, and then if he finds it, tell him that it's my number or some other student's number. But if he sees this card, it could set him off."

"You really do know how this works," Connor opened his notebook on the corner of Blair's desk and wrote down the number.

"Connor, look, don't wait on this, okay? I did, and I almost died because of it. We can leave together right now, and I can find you a safe place to stay."

"No way, man. Not now." Connor folded up his notebook and stuffed it back under his arm with his textbook. "Will's a real jerk, and my mom's living by herself in an apartment here in town--"

"We could put you both in a safe place."

"She doesn't know I'm gay, all right?" Connor snapped back. "It would kill her. She's very...religious. She's a really good person and everything--it's not like she hates gays or something. But she'd think it was a really bad thing, and I...it's just a really fucked up mess right now."

"Okay. But your mom would want you gay and alive anyday, rather than straight and dead--right? And if Will goes really ballistic, she'll find out anyway."

"I know. Look, I gotta go. Thanks for talking to me about his."

"Anytime. Call me any time of the day or night, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks again." Connor smiled a bit and then left the office. Blair leaned on the door frame, watching the younger man run down the hall, checking his watch. Blair felt a shiver dance up and down his spine at the memories that scenario evoked.

Loading up his briefcase, he headed home to Jim.

"Worrying about Connor?" Jim said, coming up behind Blair where he stood at the window of the TV room, overlooking the back yard.

"Yeah." Blair nodded, and he felt the solid warmth of Jim pressing against his back, the large arms sliding around him. He sighed and leaned into the man he loved, reveling in the leashed power of that larger form. Jim could snap a man's neck with his bare hands if need be, but those same powerful hands and arms were so incredibly gentle when they were near Blair.

"You did the best you could with him, sweetheart."

"I didn't get Will's last name, or any information about him. I blew it, man. I mean, that was the main thing you told me when I was working with people was to try to get details we could use--identifying information, stuff that we could use to help them if we had to."

"The registrar out at Rainier has Connor's address. A little asking around would probably turn up Will's last name. Hell, if we showed up at Connor's address, the jerk would probably be there, big as life. You didn't mess anything up."

"I know. I'm just so damned...frustrated. I understand better than anybody else that he has to make the choice to get out of the relationship. Otherwise, outside interference just makes it worse. I just wish he'd make that choice before something awful happens."

"At least he's taking the first steps."

"I really, really want you to make love to me," Blair said softly.

"It'll be a chore, but I guess if that's what you want, Chief," Jim responded, kissing Blair's temple as the younger man laughed.

"I want to feel all that love you've got to give me."

"Never happen. I could make love to you for the rest of time and you'd never feel all of it, cuddlebug. There's just too much in there." Jim rested his head against Blair's rocking him a little where they stood.

"Well, they say the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step--I guess we better get started," Blair said, looking back at Jim and smiling devilishly.

With soft music on the little CD player by the bed, the two men slowly and lovingly undressed each other, finally coming together in a warm skin-on-skin embrace, swaying a little to the music. Jim stepped back a little and reached down to get an arm under Blair's legs, lifting him into his arms and just holding him there a few moments before relinquishing the precious burden on the bed.

Lowering himself carefully on top of Blair, he captured the inviting mouth with his own, sliding his arms around Blair as his lover's hands caressed his shoulders and neck, then moved into his hair, holding his head in place until they both had to part for air. Jim began peppering the beloved face with kisses, moving slowly, languidly down Blair's neck to the hollow of his throat, licking the little indentation there before moving lower to tease a nipple to hardness with his tongue. He moved to its mate, feeling Blair's body undulate under him, the strangled moans of pleasure and the rapidly growing erection poking his stomach a sure sign that Blair was enjoying himself.

Moving down to the cock that rose from the nest of dark curls, Jim ran his tongue up the underside of it, smiling at Blair's responding shiver.

"Love you, baby," Jim said, just before engulfing the hot organ in his mouth, sucking lightly, wanting to stimulate and tease, preparing Blair for the main event.

"Love you," Blair managed in return, breathless now, legs spread wide, hips barely controlled from thrusting.

Releasing the rigid cock with a deliberately loud "pop", Jim looked up into Blair's passion-fogged eyes, and smiled when the younger man giggled, just a little. Making Blair laugh was probably Jim's favorite thing--seeing complete relaxation, joy and pleasure in that precious face that had seen so much pain.

Elaborating on the idea of making Blair laugh, Jim experimented with nuzzling the sensitive balls with his mustache, letting the little hairs tickle and tease the sensitive flesh, battling for supremacy with the wiry curls down there. Blair's response was a sort of mixed chortle and groan. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Blair made it clear that the sound was a good sound.

Faced with the satiny little patch of skin at Blair's perineum, Jim concentrated on teasing and tickling it with his mustache.

"Oh my God," Blair groaned, his hips heaving off the bed, Jim predicting the motion and backing away, keeping the stimulation

tantalizing but not satisfying.

"Like that, huh?" he teased, smiling up at Blair from between the raised thighs.

"More," Blair managed, letting his head drop back on the pillow as he gave himself over to whatever delicious thing Jim would do next. Jim added his tongue to the game now, finally moving back toward the little pucker that was flexing with the spasms of Blair's body. Not wanting to turn teasing into torment, Jim placed a kiss on Blair's perineum, just before probing the little opening with the tip of his tongue, letting his mustache tickle the sensitive edges.

Blair clutched at the sheets, staring at the ceiling above him, then closing his eyes and focusing on the incomparable sensations of Jim's tongue claiming him first, the mustache adding a quality of tickling and teasing to the whole process that threatened to bring Blair to his climax before Jim ever entered him.

He smiled as he felt the little kiss to his center, knowing the next thing he'd feel was one of Jim's fingers, starting the process of getting him prepared. Now that Blair had moved enough past his old fears to not feel the need to be warned of each oncoming sensation in so many words, Jim had devised his own system of signals so that he never took Blair by surprise in a way that would frighten him or remind him of anything unpleasant. The intimate little kisses were always the signal for a change in tactics, a "raising of the stakes", so to speak, as Jim moved closer to the big moment.

One careful finger was lubing him up now, stretching and massaging him, teasing a little, refusing to go deep enough to brush his prostate. Eyes still closed, Blair smiled and moaned luxuriously, wanting Jim to know he was still enjoying himself, even though he was lying there passively, selfishly enjoying being cherished with lips, tongue, fingers--and mustache. That made him chuckle.

"I'm going to start getting a complex here if you keep laughing at me, sweetheart," Jim teased, smiling up at Blair as the younger man looked down at him, big grin plastered on his face.

"I was thinking--oooh, yeah..." Blair groaned and bore down on the lone finger that had finally lightly brushed his prostate.

"You're not supposed to do that here, professor."

"No thinking zone, huh?" Blair managed, pulling his knees back further as another finger slid carefully into him and joined its partner in the little dance inside Blair's body.

"Time for brain meltdown, Darwin." Jim found Blair's prostate again, rubbing over it a couple of times.

The electric jolts of pleasure made Blair scream and grab the sheets, not sure if he wanted more or less. //MORE,// his heated body supplied helpfully, in case his mind was having a problem with the concept. Jim was right--it was brain meltdown time.

The fingers were back at the pleasure button again, and now Blair surrendered to the pleasure, crying out, writhing shamelessly on the bed, a prisoner to the wiggling of Jim's fingers in his tight passage. When the third finger entered him, he barely noticed or cared that he was being stretched. All he knew is that he wanted that long middle finger to make it to his prostate again...and...//YES!!//

And then the fingers were gone, and there was another wet kiss placed on his stretched, hungry hole. In a moment, the hot, hard head of Jim's slick cock was positioned there, sliding in slowly, stretching only slightly more than the thorough fingers had, finally arriving home when Jim's balls brushed against his ass.

He wound his legs around Jim's body, pulling him in tight, starting the rocking motion he knew Jim was waiting for him to set. His body wanted completion, but Blair's heart and soul wanted lovemaking, so the thrusts were deep but the rhythm a little slower than normal.

Picking up on Blair's thoughts as if they'd been spoken words, Jim claimed his mouth in a deep kiss, arms enclosing Blair's upper body. Blair's hands skimmed over Jim's damp shoulders and back, pulling him close, reveling in all those hard muscles moving and flexing with the effort of gently making love to him. It was any man's animal nature to cut loose and thrust his way to completion having sex. It was the nature of cherishing your partner to slowly pleasure him, to love him with your body and to put his needs above your own.

Feeling tears burn beneath closed lids at that thought, Blair opened bright eyes to gaze into the lighter blue eyes right above his own now.

"I love you," he managed, just as his overloaded body was demanding release.

"I love you too, my angel," Jim whispered, just before picking up the pace just a little, nudging Blair's prostate.

Blair's whole body arched in response, its patience with the stimulation at an end as Blair counter-thrust almost harder than Jim thrust, his completion shooting over Jim's belly and chest as Blair cried out his lover's name once, twice, and then with a final incoherent cry of pleasure, slumped on the bed while Jim's voice echoed his own, cries of Blair's name mingled with grunts of pleasure as Jim filled him, then slumped almost bonelessly on top of Blair.

"That was...beautiful," Blair whispered, stroking the soft hair as Jim's head rested over his heart. He smiled with he felt soft lips--and a mustache--kiss his chest.

"You're beautiful," came the sluggish reply.

"You're the answer to every prayer I ever said," Blair whispered, feeling tears burning his eyes again, a couple sliding down his cheeks. No love could be this intense, this perfect. No one on earth could really love him the way Jim did. And yet, when those gentle hands came up on either side of his face, thumbs brushing at the one or two stray tears, and those incredible cool blue eyes looked at him that way, with all that love...it was so...real, undeniable.

"You're never going to know what a treasure you are to me, are you, baby?" Jim said softly, his own voice strained now.

"I know," Blair whispered back, with such conviction in his voice, that Jim truly believed that he did somehow feel it, and finally understood the depth of it.

Easing out of Blair's body, Jim wrapped him in a tight embrace, stroking the precious body as they both relaxed, letting the tendrils of sleep enfold them, carrying them together into a realm of shared dreams.

"Blair Sandburg?" A voice startled Blair from behind as he inserted the key in the lock of the Volvo's door. Turning around, he saw a tall man with blond hair, dressed in jeans and a sweater, watching him.

"Yes?"

"I think you should learn to mind your own fucking business."

"Meaning what? Who are you anyway?" Blair responded irritably.

"You know what I'm talking about. Your little social worker routine."

"Don't start giving me orders, man. I don't know you, and I don't want to." Blair turned to unlock his car, acutely aware of how alone they were at this particular end of the parking lot.

"That's too fucking bad," the other man said menacingly, just before grabbing Blair's arm and yanking him around so they were face to face again.

"Get your hands off me now," Blair said angrily, hoping that some assertiveness in his voice would hold the other man at bay, maybe make him re-think this little terror tactic. Judging by the look in the angry man's eyes, it wasn't working.

Jim looked up from his paperwork to see a young man standing at his desk. He seemed to be in his early twenties, with brown hair and glasses. And a panorama of unsightly bruises on his face.

"I'm looking for Blair Sandburg," he said uneasily. "He said he worked here...and I need to talk to him."

"Connor?" Jim asked cautiously.

"Uh...yeah. He mentioned me?"

"I'm Blair's partner. Since Blair isn't a cop, when he's working with someone, he keeps me informed, in case there are any problems."

"I see. Is he here?"

"Not at the moment, but I expect him soon. You want to have a seat?" Jim indicated the chair near his desk where he usually parked suspects he was booking.

"I'd...I'd like to file a complaint. The thing is, I think you should probably get a hold of Blair and let him know that Will knows we talked, and he was majorly pissed, man."

"Have a seat right there and I'll get Blair on his cell phone. Then we'll get your statement."

"Okay. Thanks."

Just as Jim reached for the phone to call Blair, it rang.

"Ellison," he answered.

"Jim," the voice was weak and strained, "I need help."

"Blair? Where are you?"

"A-at the U...the big lot...out behind...the arena. In my car."

"I'm on my way. You hurt, Chief?"

"Yeah...kinda bad I think..."

"Hang on. I'll be right there." Jim hung up the phone and turned to Connor as he got up and pulled on his jacket. "I think we're too late. Rafe," Jim motioned to the other detective. "This is Connor--he's been working with Blair, and is ready to make a statement. I need you to take care of him and get an ambulance out to Rainier University, Parking Lot..." He turned to Connor, "The one behind the arena."

"G-Lot."

"G. Thanks, man," he said to Rafe, flying out of the bullpen and not stopping for the elevator, bolting through the stairwell door.

The streets between the Cascade PD and the University were a blur of lights, siren and squealing tires as motorists ground to halts on all sides to make way for the blue and white streak shooting down the streets at breakneck speed.

He sped through the main entrance of the University, scattering bike-riding students and slow-moving motorists by adding horn-blasts to the siren. He squealed around the corner into Lot G, with the ambulance just rounding the corner behind him. Realizing the Volvo was lost in a sea of cars, he dialed Blair's cell phone number again, hoping the other man had been in good enough shape to hang up the first time, so the line wouldn't be busy.

"Jim?"

"It's me, baby. Hang on. I'm in the lot, but you need to call to me. I'm going to cut the sirens, and listen, okay? Then I can find you faster."

"'kay," came the weak reply.

"Cut those sirens," Jim shouted back at the ambulance, sticking his head out the truck window and making a cutting motion across his throat. The lights and sirens ceased. "Okay, sweetheart, call my name, okay?" he coaxed Blair over the phone.

"Jim!" It didn't have much wind behind it, but it was enough to point him in the right direction. Within moments of starting out in the direction of Blair's voice, he saw the back end of the Volvo.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. I'll be with you in a second," he reassured Blair before breaking the connection and pulling up behind the car. He was out of the truck in a flash and kneeling beside Blair's open car door.

Blair was leaning back in the seat, his face badly bruised and swollen in spots, blood drying under his nose and at the corner of his mouth. His pulse was rapid, his breathing shallow, as if he were in considerable pain.

"It's okay, baby. I'm right here," Jim said gently, carefully turning the bruised face toward him. One eye was swollen nearly shut, but the other opened fully, though slowly. "Who did this, Chief?"

"I didn't...recognize him. Said I should mind my own business."

"Okay. Tell me where you're hurting, sweetheart."

"He...kicked me a few times...hard."

"Sir, why don't you let us take a look at him?" A slender Hispanic woman, with a name tag that red "Rita", stood just behind Jim, the second EMT behind her, waiting to examine Blair.

"Right." Jim nodded and then leaned over and kissed Blair's forehead. "I'll be right here, baby," he whispered into Blair's ear before backing away to let the EMT's do their work. Just then, a campus police car pulled up at the scene, and Jim noticed there were a number of students standing back at a distance, gawking at the ambulance, speculating on what was going on.

"What's going on here?" A middle aged officer with dark hair and glasses approached Jim, who held up his ID.

"Cascade PD. How in the hell does someone get beaten to a pulp in broad daylight in the middle of one of your parking lots? Do you people ever patrol out here or are you too busy writing parking tickets in front of the administration building?" Jim demanded angrily.

"We're a small department, Detective. This is a good-sized campus. We can't be everywhere at once. We have a very low crime rate here."

"That's very comforting."

"Blair?" The officer moved away from Jim and looked over to where the EMT's were transferring Blair onto the gurney.

"Hi, Kevin," Blair managed, his fingers moving in an attempt at a wave.

"If you can give us a description of the guy, we'll get right on it," Kevin said to Blair.

"Tall, good sized guy. Blond hair and mustache...jeans and a gray sweater...some kind of logo on the chest...cowboy boots--brown and scuffed up a lot," Blair managed.

"We've got to get moving here, gentlemen," Rita said, starting the gurney in motion toward the ambulance.

"I'm riding with him," Jim said, starting to move with the gurney.

"I could drive your truck over to the hospital," Kevin offered. I'll radio in the description and then take it over there if you want.

"Great. Thanks." Jim handed him the keys and climbed in the back of the ambulance with Blair. Once they were in motion, he turned to Rita, who was hovering over Blair, checking his vital signs.

"He's got a few cracked ribs, and I'm afraid a little bleeding. I think he took a couple bad blows to the kidney area, which is what I'm most concerned about. Possible concussion, but we can't be sure about that just yet."

"Blair, I'm right here, Chief." Jim took a firm hold of Blair's hand in both of his.

"I messed up," Blair said weakly, wincing at the pain.

"You didn't mess up at all, Chief," Jim responded gently, pushing a little of Blair's hair back from his forehead.

"Should've...handled him better."

"Shhh. This isn't your fault."

"Some...hot shot...PD employee, huh?"

"Take it easy, Blair. Don't get upset, okay?" Rita interjected, smiling kindly at the distressed face looking up at her from the stretcher.

"I tried...the defense moves...but I wasn't...fast enough."

"Calm down, baby. It's okay." Jim quit worrying what Rita or her colleague would make of it and leaned forward, kissing the bruised mouth gently. "I love you."

"Even all...ugly like this?" Blair quipped weakly, trying to smile at Jim.

"You could never be ugly, angel," Jim whispered against Blair's ear, then kissed his cheek. "Everything's going to be okay."

Jim paced the waiting room anxiously while the doctor examined Blair. He turned to see Rafe jogging down the hall toward him.

"I talked to Kevin Hale from the Rainier Campus PD--the description Blair gave him doesn't match Will Morris. We just picked him up on Connor's complaint. He's average height, black hair and a beard."

"Shit." Jim rubbed his forehead, staring at the floor a moment. "I'll work on the bastard for a while as soon as I know Blair's okay. He's got the strongest motive to do something like this."

"Is Blair working with anybody else?"

"Well, he's had a few walk-ins that he guided through the complaint process in the last few weeks. Good thinking."

"I think you're just a little distracted right now. You want me to follow up on those?"

"Yeah, thanks. But if you find anybody that matches the description, throw his ass in an interrogation room and give me a call. I want to do a little dance with that son of a bitch."

"Jim--"

"Just do it, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Rafe."

"Anytime. Any word on Blair?"

"Not yet. The doctor's still examining him."

"Hale gave me these. He said he left your truck in the visitor parking." Rafe handed Jim his keys.

"Thanks."

"Call if there's any news on Blair, okay? The whole bullpen's waiting around for it."

"I will," Jim said, smiling slightly. Blair would like knowing that so many people were hanging on anxiously to hear about his condition.

"You must be Jim," the doctor said, smiling as she approached Jim. A slightly heavy set middle aged woman with neatly styled blonde hair, she took off her glasses and tucked them in the pocket of her lab coat.

"Is he okay?"

"He's doing fine. He's going to be hurting for a while--he took some nasty blows. I want to keep him here a couple of days to keep an eye on that left kidney. He took a couple severe blows back there, and he's in a lot of pain with it. I'm starting him on some medication for the pain, and we'll want to keep him flushed out with fluids. He'll probably pass blood for a couple of days while things are clearing up."

"How about his head?"

"No concussion. The facial bruising is the worse of the damage to his head, fortunately. Whoever did this definitely wanted him to feel all of it. Poor kid has quite a medical history here," she said a little sadly, shaking her head. "This isn't the same situation, is it?"

"No. He was in an abusive relationship a couple years ago, and that was the source of the injuries that put him in here, and the surgery he needed." Jim frowned, sighing. "He's spear-heading a new division at the Cascade PD working with domestic violence victims, and I think this has something to do with that--a ticked off abuser."

"Unfortunately, social work of any kind can be risky--especially interventions like that." She smiled. "Come on. He's been asking for you non-stop, and I'll never establish any doctor-patient rapport with him if he doesn't get to see you for a couple minutes before we take him up to his room."

Jim walked up to the side of the bed where Blair lay, looking unhappily at the IV in his left hand.

"That's the liquid version of the happy pills, Chief," Jim said, taking a hold of the fingers of that hand and rubbing them gently, then kissing them lightly. "I know this isn't your favorite place."

"I want to go home."

"I know, baby. Not yet. The doctor wants to keep an eye on that kidney, make sure everything's okay."

"It really hurts," Blair said quietly. "I got scared because...it hurt worse than...I mean, Vince kicked me a few times pretty hard, a couple times in the back. This hurts worse."

"Did you tell the doctor how much it hurts?" Jim leaned on the railing of the bed, reaching over to stroke Blair's hair.

"Yeah."

"Chief, did the guy say anything else that would tip you off to who he was? We've got Will in custody--Connor filed a complaint." Jim smiled as he saw the big grin spread over Blair's bruised face.

"Good for him," Blair said, making a weak fist with his right hand, as if to cheer for Connor's step in the right direction.

"But he doesn't match the description of the guy who attacked you."

"Ask...check on Annie's husband."

"Annie...Ann Ryker?"

"Yeah, the woman who turned in her husband last week. Then she...d-dropped the chargessh." Blair's eyes started drooping and his speech slurred.

"Don't fight the meds, cuddlebug." Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's mouth gently. "I'll only be a hiccup away, and then I'll be in your room with you, okay?"

"Okay. Love," Blair managed before falling asleep. Jim smiled at his lover.

"Yeah, love," he repeated, kissing Blair again before moving away so the medical personnel could get him ready for the move to his room.

Jim pulled up to the curb in front of the Ryker home. With Blair sleeping soundly on the pain meds, and the promise of the nurse on duty to call him if Blair so much as hiccupped in his sleep, he had felt safe to take time out to complete this little mission himself.

He walked up to the door of the small brick ranch and knocked, hoping that Mrs. Ryker wasn't at home, and that her husband did match Blair's description. In a moment, his questions were answered as the door swung open, and he stood face to face with a man about his height with blond hair and a mustache.

"Mark Ryker?" he asked, doing his best not to lunge through the open door and kill the bastard. Turning all senses on full power, he could smell a trace of Blair's aftershave lingering around the man. Worse than that, he could smell a trace of Blair's blood.

"Yeah?"

"Detective Ellison, Cascade PD--" Jim just caught the door as the other man tried to swing it shut, bolting inside the living room and catching the fleeing suspect before he got all the way to the house's kitchen. "You're under arrest for aggravated assault, you son of a bitch," Jim ground out as he literally dragged the other man back from where he hand one hand clawing at the linoleum, as if he could pull himself to freedom by making it over the threshold into the kitchen.

When Ryker struck out at Jim with his foot, something in Jim rejoiced. //Oh, yeah, you fucker, resist arrest. Come on...make my day!// Jim though jubilantly as he felt the blow to his upper body from the flailing foot. //Come on, man, bruise me a little! I'm gonna need the evidence...// Jim made a few other intentionally clumsy moves that earned him backward kicks, one he was sure would be colorful on his cheek. When he was sure he'd earned a few visible wounds, he let the other man up.

Ryker seemed to know that Ellison wasn't through with him, so he turned, ready to fight. Again, Jim let him have the illusion of supremacy for one or two lucky shots. And then, Jim moved in for the kill. With a few well-placed blows to the man's face and one to his stomach that spun him around, he shoved him against the wall and let loose with a full-force blow to the kidney that left Ryker clawing at the wall to stay upright.

"Those kidney shots are uncomfortable, aren't they, hot shot?"

"I'll sue you," Ryker ground out.

"Give it your best shot, ace. Fine upstanding citizen like you will get lots of support, I'm sure." Jim yanked the plastic restraint tightly into place. "Come on, asshole. You've got reservations downtown for an all expenses paid vacation at the city men's club."

"You don't have anything on me!" Ryker shouted, his voice strained with the lingering pain of the last blow. At that, Jim spun the other man around and shoved him back against the wall, pinning the bound man with a powerful arm across his neck.

"Wanna bet? On your clothes somewhere is my partner's blood. You're going down for this, you son of a bitch. And if he loses a kidney over this, my advice to you would be to never close your eyes while you're in the joint, because some night, when you least expect it, I'll be back with a scalpel to even the score. I was a medic in the army, and while my methods may be a bit crude, I'm sure I can carve out what I need," Jim hissed into the prisoner's face. Ryker's expression changed a bit then, as if he had seen something in the frozen blue stare that told him that Jim wasn't just tossing out showy threats. At that moment, Ryker appeared to be envisioning a stealthy Jim Ellison, scalpel in hand, stealing into his prison cell in the dark of night. "I see we finally understand each other," Jim concluded, smiling evilly. "I'm so glad," he sneered, before yanking the man away from the wall and hauling him out to the truck.

"Jim!" Blair's eyes turned to saucers when he saw his partner walk in, a couple of colorful bruises marking his face, a slight split in his lower lip. "What the--?" With the hospital bed raised a little, Blair still looked miserable but at least he was awake and talking now.

"I need you to take a look at a little photo line up for me, sweetheart." Jim handed him the photos, with Rafe leaning against the door frame.

"I'm just witnessing everything--making sure he doesn't tip you off," he clarified as Blair spotted him there. "Hey, Blair, how you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a dump truck--thanks." Blair forced a little smile, and then looked at the stack of photos. He picked out Ryker, who looked a bit the worse for wear, and held up the photo. "This is him."

"Mark Ryker. You were right about him, Chief." Jim stacked up the photos and handed them to Rafe.

"You want me to handle booking him?"

"Please."

"Forensics said they'd have something for you about the clothes a little later. Ryker's still babbling about suing you, but H and I told him to tell it to somebody who gave a shit."

"Great. Thanks, Rafe."

"Clothes?" Blair asked as the other man left the room.

"I smelled your blood on Ryker's clothes," Jim explained, sitting on the edge of Blair's bed, leaning forward to kiss him lightly, respecting the swelling on the side of Blair's mouth and the split in his own lip.

"Level with me, man. Did he really resist arrest?" Blair asked softly, a hand resting against Jim's chest. Jim covered the hand with his own.

"Yeah, he really did, sweetheart."

"Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine. Forget that. I want to know how you're feeling."

"My back still hurts like crazy, but the doctor checked on me a little while ago and said everything was still okay. I feel so dopey most of the time from the pain meds that I'm not sure how I feel." Blair sighed, looking sadder than Jim could remember seeing him in a long time. "Mostly, I've just been remembering." Blair swallowed, looking Jim in the eyes. "I'm really glad you're here now. Think maybe you could hold me for a while?"

"I'd love to, sweetheart. What about your back?"

"I'll be okay. Just go slow." With a couple of face-scrunching winces, Blair moved over, and Jim managed to fit himself into the slim space that was available, tossing his jacket on the nearby chair. He slid his arm around Blair, the younger man's body resting partially against him, his injured side still on the bed. "I want to go home, Jim," Blair said quietly, his head drooping against Jim's arm. "I hate sleeping here by myself."

"I won't leave you until I take you home, baby." Jim kissed Blair's hair, leaning his head against his lover's.

"Reminds me a lot of...everything that happened before."

"I know, honey. I know." Jim sighed sadly. "We really dropped the ball on this one. We should have known you could be in some real danger getting in the middle of these domestic situations."

"Guess I need to learn more defense moves." Blair took a hold of Jim's hand, pressing his cheek against it. "You can't follow me around all the time."

"Oh really?" Jim teased Blair's ear with the tip of his tongue, making the other man chortle a little, holding onto his sore ribs.

"I'm serious, man. When I get better, I'm going to sign up for some sort of martial arts training. I know a guy out at the U who's really good at it, and he gives lessons sometimes."

"You could carry a gun, Chief."

"No way, man. I'm not a cop, and I'm not going to start dealing with my life behind a gun. It's just not me."

"I know. But neither is hand-to-hand combat."

"No, but it's the lesser of the evils, and I think this is important enough to stick with it." Blair was quiet a minute. "How's Connor?"

"He's okay. Will's in lock-up, Connor's at the apartment."

"We've gotta get a better safehouse facility. You know that, right?"

"We have to creep before we walk, sweetheart. There are still shelters out there."

"Not for the guys."

"No, but we don't have as many guys as we do women, and the guys can bunk in the same room if they have to, if we do have more than one. So a two-bedroom apartment near the PD is pretty good." Jim smiled, kissing Blair's temple. "I can't believe you're lying here worrying about the program."

"Connor's safe, Will's in lock-up, and of the two women I talked to last week, at least one stuck to her guns and pressed charges. Now Ryker'll serve time too."

"But at what price?"

"I wouldn't live long paying this price for every case, but everything that happened, happened for a reason. Three people are safe now that weren't safe last week. I think that's pretty worthwhile. We just have to work a few more of the bugs out of this system, so that I'm not putting myself in undue danger, and so I can defend myself in a bad situation."

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"Yeah--I've got more healing power than that doll--remember Stretch Armstrong?"

"Stretch Armstrong?" Jim parroted, laughing. "Can't say I do, Chief."

"I had one. You could pull his arms and legs way out long--he was like this totally flexible rubber guy. And you'd do all these horrible things to him, and if you flattened him out and left him there long enough, he went back into shape." Blair was smiling. "So, I figure, if I can hang in there like old Stretch did, I should be okay."

"Yeah, well, the only person pulling your arms and legs around into odd positions better be me."

"Guess I'll be out of commission for a while."

"We'll survive." Jim smiled, holding Blair a little closer. "We can still cuddle." He kissed Blair's cheek, then made the little stretch to kiss his lips. "Cuddlebug." Blair chuckled a little at the endearment--and at the kiss. "You still like the caterpillar, Chief?" Jim asked, tickling Blair's cheek with it again.

"Yeah--it's like getting a butterfly kiss from a 500-pound butterfly." Blair grinned as Jim laughed, the rumble vibrating Blair gently where he lay. "It's part of you. An expression of you. How could I not like that?"

"You're one of a kind, sweetheart," Jim responded, rubbing Blair's arm gently, kissing him again.

"No--we're one of a kind."

Jim smiled at Blair considering them one of a kind--a single entity. As he soaked up the warmth of the precious body snuggled against him, he realized just how true that was. One of a kind--bound by a love stronger than any two separate entities could share.

THE END


End file.
